


If the Fates Allow

by Abagail_Snow



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Holidays, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abagail_Snow/pseuds/Abagail_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home from college for her holiday break, Katniss runs into an old classmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If the Fates Allow

Katniss hurried down the sidewalk, her worn boots skidding against the murky slush which was quickly turning into a fresh sheet of ice.  It was 4:30PM on Christmas Eve and even the grocery store had closed by this point.  But the light was still on at Mellark’s Bakery.  A beacon of hope that shone brightly from the far side of the shopping center.

She was mere steps away when the windows went dark, and the sign in the door became legible: Sorry, We’re Closed, it mocked her from the other side of the thin glass.  There weren’t any cars in the parking lot, and she could only assume that Mr. Mellark had parked out back, where he could make an easy exit, blissfully unaware of her desperate dilemma.  She let out a soft whimper, her forehead hitting the taunting barrier between her and the last fresh baked goods in all of Panem with a resigned thud.

She had all but embraced her failure when she heard the deadbolt click.  The door pushed open slightly, jingling the bells that hung above the frame.

"Did you want to come in?" came a familiar voice that didn’t belong to the elder Mellark.

Her eyes lifted to confirm her suspicion.  ”Peeta?” she said, an inexplicable tug pulling her mouth into a crooked grin.

"Hey Katniss," he said, opening the door enough for her to pass through.  "You home for Christmas?"

The question was innocent enough — purely conversational — yet Katniss felt uneasy by the small talk.  Like they were old friends.  

Although Katniss and Peeta had graduated from the same high school that past spring, they had never spoken before.  Not really.

"Yeah," she said after some hesitation.  "I got back this morning."

"You go to state, right?"  He was already behind the counter, tapping some buttons to bring the register to life.

"Yeah."  She nodded an affirmative, but didn’t elaborate.  

There was an awkward stretch of silence before he spoke again.

"What can I help you with?" he said.

"I ruined the pie," she said, relaying the events of the earlier crisis in the Everdeen kitchen.

"By burning it?"

"By eating it," she admitted.  

She had only eaten a slice.  It was sitting on the counter when she’d arrived that morning, and after the three hour drive, she was starving.  Nobody had ever complained about the Christmas desserts being picked at before, but this dinner was special.  Katniss rolled her eyes.  “My sister invited her boyfriend to dinner and apparently it’s a really big deal.”

"Sounds serious," he mused, reaching beneath the display case to retrieve an assortment of white cardboard boxes.

"She’s fifteen," Katniss said flatly.

"Would you like to peruse the wedding cake selection then, while you’re at it?"

She laughed.  ”I wouldn’t put it past her. 

He lined two boxes on the counter.  ”We’ve got apple and poison berry,” he said.  ”Pick your poison… or apple.  Sorry, that sounded better in my head.”

"Poison berry sounds good," she said, giving him an encouraging smile.  She pulled a few crumpled bills from her pocket and extended them to him.  "You guys are open awfully late on Christmas Eve," she noted.

"Technically we closed at one," he said.  He counted her change and handed it to her.  "I’ve been stalling."

Talking with Peeta hadn’t been unpleasant thus far, and she felt compelled to continue the conversation.  ”Stalling from what?”

"Nothing interesting," he said.  He had tied off the cake box with red string and it was waiting for her beside the register.

Now Katniss was stalling, it seemed.  She picked at the frayed end of the string, making no move to pick it up off the counter.

"How long are you home for?" he said, after another drawn out moment of silence.

"Two weeks."

"Wow, really?  That’s not very long.  We’re off for like a month.  I’m already in my second week and bored out of my mind."

She smiled at this.  She had only been home for a few hours and was counting down the seconds until she went back.  She adored her sister like nothing else in the world, but only when Prim wasn’t in her surly teen phase, which she had just settled into.

"Where did you end up going to school?" she said.

He lifted his eyebrows, an intriguing warmth swirling in his blue irises.  ”Panem U,” he said.

That was a private university on the other side of town, not too far, probably a fifteen minute commute on a bad day.

"Do you live in the dorms?"

"Nah, I live at home," he said with a chuckle.  "Sexy, isn’t it?"

Her throat went dry at the remark and the wry smirk that accompanied it.  ”Practical,” she managed to say.  ”Well I should get going.  Thanks for the pie.”

She was almost at the door when his voice stopped her.  ”You doing anything on Friday?”

Her eyes widened at the loaded question, and she tried to hide her surprise by clearing her throat.

"The day after Christmas we have this Christmas tree bonfire in the woods," he said.  "It’s sort of a dumb tradition, but there’s a keg, so it’s fun."

"Aren’t you supposed to keep your tree up for twelve days or something?  How else will the Wise Men find you?"

"The fire gets pretty massive," he said.  "Trust me, they’d find it.  Besides, most people have had their trees up since Thanksgiving, so the right zap of static is liable to set the whole house ablaze.  If you think about it, we’re doing them a favor."

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.  ”Our tree isn’t real.  I don’t think PVC is flammable.”   

"Too bad," he said with a playful grimace.  "You should come."

Katniss had no interest in visiting her old high school chums, mainly because she didn’t have any.  She was passing acquaintances with several people, but not really friends with anyone besides Gale and maybe Madge Undersee.  There weren’t any particular traumas that spurred Katniss’s isolation from her peers; she simply preferred to keep to herself when she could. 

Which was why the prospect of spending an evening, lost in the woods with some obnoxiously drunk strangers she didn’t care to remember, didn’t seem  appealing to her.

She smiled tightly anyway and nodded.  “Maybe,” she said.

Peeta flashed a grin that almost made her consider his invitation, and she hurried out the door before she could make any promises she wasn’t willing to keep.

* * *

 

Katniss kept one arm folded across her chest, while the other held her red plastic cup against her chin, where she’d already chewed and deformed most of the lip. 

She hadn’t planned on ending up here.  She had called Gale earlier in the day to ask what he was up to, and when Gale had told her he was going to some lame bonfire with Madge – apparently they were dating now, he had asked if she wanted to tag along.

She didn’t want to.  Really.  There was just nothing better to do, now that TBS wasn’t playing “A Christmas Story” on the even hour anymore.

The trees weren’t dry enough to make good firewood quite yet, and the early flames were nothing but bellowing smoke.

Katniss kept her eyes trained on the far side of the embers, where Peeta Mellark seemed to stop and chat with every person at the party, each for a good ten minutes at least.  Had he even wanted her to come?

She downed the rest of her cup, and began searching through the crowd for Gale and Madge, who had disappeared almost an hour ago with their elbows locked, smiling at one another like they were keeping a secret.

"Katniss?  You came!"  She heard Peeta’s voice behind her, and then felt his hand touch her shoulder.

She turned on her heels to face him, her eyes barely flitting up to acknowledge him, before she was staring into her empty plastic cup again.  His eyelids were heavy from the smoke and alcohol, and his hand lingered on her shoulder for longer than was customary before finally falling away.

"Hi," she said shyly.

His smile was the type that brightened his entire face without any effort.  He looked her up and down a few times, before his glazed eyes settled on hers.  “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said.

"I didn’t either," she admitted.

"Can I–?  Could I–?" he began to stammer, laughing at himself a bit before regaining his composure.  "Would you like another drink?"

"I think I’m leaving, actually."

"No, you just got here!" he said, and he touched her hand and must have realized it was inappropriate, because he pulled it back quickly, as if her skin had burned him.  "I really didn’t think you would come.  I feel like such an ass now."

"It’s okay," she said.  She craned her neck a bit higher to search for Gale and Madge.  This was all a bad idea.

"How was Christmas?  Did your family like the pie?"

"Yes," she said vacantly.  "It was delicious."

"Good," he said. 

There was a lull in the conversation, while Katniss continued her desperate search for an escape.  She had spent the entire night waiting for Peeta Mellark to talk to her, and now that he actually was, she had no idea what to do.

"Did you get everything you wanted this year?" he said.  His tone was casual, but the faint glint in his eyes suggested something else.

"My family isn’t big on exchanging gifts," she said.  She had bought her mother a coffee mug from the school bookstore, and for Prim, the pair of headphones she’d requested.

"Mine either," he said.  "My mom gets us the same thing every year.  I have more socks than the Fruit of the Loom warehouse at this point.  Tomorrow I get to stand in line for four hours to bleed out whatever store credit I can get."

"That sounds like the holiday spirit," she said dryly.

He chuckled and nodded his head sheepishly.  “That was such a bratty thing to say.  I must sound so awful.”

"You do."

"I was fine before that last beer, I swear.  I’m really kicking myself now."  He dumped what was left in his cup into the dirt.

"Why?"

When he looked at her, there was always this look of disbelief that wrinkled the corners of his eyes, she noticed that now.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said, as if it were obvious.

Despite the biting winter air, she felt a rush of warmth at his earnestness.  She’d noticed Peeta before.  She’d always noticed him.  But she never thought of him much.  Not actively.  Not this way.

"Maybe some other time," she said.

"How about tomorrow?" he said.  "Do you want to keep me company in line, so I can show you how ungrateful I can be?"

"You’re really trying to flaunt your best qualities, aren’t you?"

"We can even play a quick round of White Elephant before hand, so I can swipe your favorite gift for itchy underwear.  I’m that generous!"

She had to bite her bottom lip to stop from smiling.  “Okay, yeah,” she said.  The alternative would be sitting on the couch with whatever show Prim had decided to binge watch off Netflix that day, something from the CW most likely.  Plus, despite what he may have thought, she found she didn’t mind being around Peeta, she almost enjoyed it.

"Great," he said, his smile so broad it was contagious and soon, she was smiling too.  "You live off Oak, right?"

She wasn’t sure how he knew that detail, but only nodded in response.  Gale and Madge had returned from the recesses of wherever they’d run off to earlier, and Katniss quickly ended the conversation before they saw her with Peeta.  She didn’t need to be teased for talking with a boy, especially not Peeta. 

They’d talk her out of it somehow, unintentionally, of course.  She’d feel silly for liking a boy and then drop any thoughts of it, just as she always had.  It was easier that way, to pretend things didn’t happen.  That they’d never existed.  She was too stubborn for anything else.

But, when they left that night, and Katniss brushed past Peeta along the way, he said, “Goodnight Katniss,” in such a way, that she felt a flutter in her stomach, and her steely walls began to crumble.

* * *

 

Peeta was at her door before 11AM with a large shopping bag tucked under his arm.  He had a plate of leftover Christmas cookies, too, which were graciously accepted by Prim before he’d even made it through the doorway.

Her mother was thankfully working that afternoon, and her sister quickly lost interest in the allure of having a boy in the house.  A boy that was specifically in search of Katniss’s company, no less.  Prim had only grinned at Katniss around a mouthful of peppermint glazed sugar cookie, before excusing herself to disappear behind her bedroom door.

Katniss offered him some hot chocolate, and began heating water on the stove before he’d even accepted.  He followed her into the kitchen, hovering awkwardly beside a kitchen chair, while she collected mugs and envelopes of cocoa mix.

"I’ve got socks, flashlights, window scrapers," he said, holding up the shopping bag.  "Three of this hoodie in different colors," he added, pinching at the sweatshirt he wore under his coat.  "You want any of it?"

The hoodie was pale green and made out of a soft looking material.  She wanted to stroke her fingers against it, but thought better of it.

"You want a hoodie," he quickly determined.  He dropped the bag and fished out one in red, gray, and orange.

She grimaced.  “I kind of like the green one best…”

Before she could comprehend what was happening, he was shrugging off his jacket and the sweatshirt came over his head. 

Her eyes widened.  “I can’t take that from you,” she said.

"You’re right," he said, pressing his lips together to hide the grin that always seemed to be threatening.  "We’re playing White Elephant, right?  What do you have to trade for it?"

She wasn’t going to trade the scarf that Prim had knitted for her, or the electric kettle her mother had given her so she could make tea or Ramen without having to leave her dorm room.

She reached for a basket on the kitchen counter, which was filled with pens and chocolates and Chapsticks and other stocking stuffers.  “I’ve got this orange from my stocking,” she offered weakly.  “But I’m not sure that’s a fair exchange.”

"Hmm, take a flashlight too then," he said, pressing the sweatshirt into her hands and taking the orange.

It was as soft as she’d imagined, and warm too.  Without thinking, she held it to her face.  It smelled like him, his cologne was spicy, with a hint of cinnamon.  That was her favorite part about it.

The water began to boil, offering her a reprieve from making a fool of herself.  She draped the sweatshirt over the back of the chair and went to fill the mugs.

They spent most of the afternoon at the mall, sharing a pretzel and a giant cookie while they waited in various lines.  Her wrapped in his sweatshirt, and him with his hand held at his side at just the right angle so that their fingers bumped with every slight sway.  

"It’s always so depressing right after Christmas," he said, when they were waiting in an especially dismal department store.  "The shelves are all in disarray, there are gaping holes where Christmas displays used to be.  It looks like the opening scene of a post apocalyptic zombie movie in here.  Why don’t they hold onto the holidays for a little while longer?  Why are they so quick to let it go?"

"I think there’s a Christmas Shoppe franchise with your name on it," she said.

"I’m serious," he said.  "You live in this wintery fantasy land for almost all of December, and then come Christmas morning, bam.  It’s over.  As if it never happened."

"You were the one who was burning the evidence of the holiday just yesterday," she argued.  "And now you’re dumping all the gifts too."

"I’m prolonging their usefulness," he said.  "Most households already have their unwanted gadgets tucked away on some shelf they’re never going to touch again.  Meanwhile, I’m going in for second gifts."  She rolled her eyes at this.  "Besides, you’re here," he said, nudging her with his elbow.  "That’s all the presence I need."

She let out an incredulous scoff that was swallowed by laughter.  “That was terrible.”

"I know," he admitted, laughing alongside her.  "You have to stop smiling like that when I make awful jokes, it’s too encouraging."

When he dropped her off, he asked what they were doing tomorrow, and she didn’t mind at all.

* * *

 

Katniss hadn’t been ice skating in years.  There was a lake that her father used to take her to when it froze over, but she couldn’t remember where it was, and it was a question she’d never dare ask her mother.  It had just become another ritual that was buried along with him.

When she saw that the amphitheater in the center of town had been converted into an ice rink for the winter season, it became a tradition that she wanted to rekindle.  Prim wasn’t interested in going.  She was never interested in doing anything these days, so Katniss found herself tapping out a message to Peeta, her thumb hovering over the send button.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before he replied, and in ten minutes, he was pulling up in front of her house.

"I’m not very good at ice skating," he warned her.  He was holding open the passenger door waiting for her to slip all the way inside to close it behind her.  "I did all sorts of damage to my ACL in high school.  The doctors say my left leg may as well be fake, with the way they had to reattach it."

"From wrestling?"

He looked surprised that she knew, which was odd, because Peeta’s wrestling career was fairly common knowledge.  He was regularly featured in the school paper and the trophy case was next to her locker and held a few plaques from his victories at state.  Not that she needed them as a reminder; he wore his letter man jacket almost every day.

"Yeah," he said.

Peeta wasn’t lying when he said he was bad at skating.  He kept close to the railing, and whenever he let go, he seemed to flap his arms more than he moved his feet.  It had taken Katniss a few laps before she was used to the mechanics and balance behind it.  Soon she was gliding and turning to skate backwards, keeping an eye on Peeta as he ventured a few feet with the poise of a newborn deer.

"Don’t lean forward," she told him.  He stood straight and almost instantly, his legs slipped from beneath him and he was sitting on the ice.  She grimaced.  "Don’t lean back either."

He struggled back to his feet and she held her hands out to steady him.  “You should consider becoming an instructor,” he said wryly.  “What’s the next lesson?  ‘Just Stop Falling’?”

"I don’t know, would you?"

He was leaning too far forward again, his eyes focused intently on his feet and his hands gripping her elbows tightly through his thick gloves and her leather jacket.  They had never been this close, not face to face at least.  From this angle she could see the faint freckles that dotted his ashen skin right on the bridge of his nose.  And his eyelashes.  They were impossibly long.  These golden threads that tangled at the ends, making his eyes shine brighter when they caught the tiniest bit of light.

She was holding onto him too tightly now, and their faces were too close.  If she leaned in just another inch, she could press her forehead against his.  And then what?  Would their eyes meet from beneath their lashes?  Would he smile at her in that way that always made her knees wobble a bit?  Would he try to kiss her?  Did she want him to?

"Is this right?" he said.  

She hadn’t realized how quickly they were moving now.  He was standing taller, his smile pleased, and she wondered if maybe he had caught her watching him.  He didn’t mention it though, or tease her about it, which he probably would if he knew.  

He had a much better handle of his balance, and each skate was actually gliding a few feet before he switched to the next foot.  “You think I’ll be ready for Sochi?”

She released his arms and let him attempt to skate on his own.  “Definitely,” she said, although in that moment, her mind felt like it was more than a thousand miles away.

When she touched her hand to her cheek, she could feel the heat from her blush all the way through the fingertips of her gloves.

* * *

 

Katniss couldn’t explain why Peeta’s invitation to Delly Cartwright’s New Years Eve party made her so nervous.  He had asked her to go to the bonfire only a few days ago and it hadn’t been a big deal, and since then they’d spent nearly every day together.  This time, however, there was an added preposition.  He wanted her to go with him.

As in they would be there.  Together.  And instead of sulking into her beer, blissfully isolated from the crowd, as she had been at the bonfire, she’d be beside him, engaging in benign conversation with every person in the room.  Together.

At least she thought that’s what it meant.  She still wasn’t sure.  A week ago he’d been a passing acquaintance, and now?  He was everywhere.  Getting coffee, taking down Christmas lights — he’d even sat through a Gossip Girl marathon with Prim.  Somehow, he’d managed to insinuate himself into her life with little effort, and she’d accepted it readily.

It was safe, she guessed.  In a few days she’d be back at school, three hours away, and this casual flirtation would be just that.  They’d see each other during holiday breaks maybe, text occasionally, and when they were really bored, leave lewd messages on the other’s facebook wall, but it probably wouldn’t amount to much of anything.  Katniss wasn’t the dating type, and that’s exactly what Peeta seemed to be.

Yet, based solely on definition, that was what they were doing.  It was unspoken, like the way he rested his hand on the small of her back when they passed through doorways, or the way she leaned into him, ever so slightly, when they were sitting on the couch.  She just hadn’t admitted it, because when she did, what then?

Delly’s parents apparently always vacationed this time of year, leaving Delly alone with the house.  She wasn’t the type to throw ragers, but still, the street around her house was lined with older model cars, and the narrow entrance way was packed with party goers who hadn’t filtered into the kitchen or basement quite yet.

As they navigated through the throngs of people, Peeta was holding onto her hand loosely, a fact that she was acutely aware of.  He nodded his head towards the staircase.  “Do you want to get rid of your coat?”

Peeta and Delly had been best friends since childhood and he was mostly at home here, bypassing the pitiful barricades that Delly had erected to dissuade others from venturing past and leading Katniss to her bedroom.

He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the bed and then took Katniss’s too.  She kept her eyes trained on the doorway, down the hallway, and towards the top of the stairs where they had came from.  She wondered if anyone had seen them come up here.  What they would think when they saw them sneak back down.  Would they think that she and Peeta had been fooling around up here?

She smiled at the thought.  She watched Peeta neatly fold her jacket and drop it onto Delly’s plush, purple comforter.  She could catch him off guard right now — push him to the mattress and climb into his lap.  

She thought about that too much.  Which way he’d tilt his head when he kissed her — to the left or the right?  Would he take her top or bottom lip into his mouth?  Where would he put his hands when the kiss deepened?

"You ready?" Peeta asked, knocking her abruptly from the scene that played in her mind.

There was only champagne at the party — sparkling wine to be exact, Andre’s to be even more so.  Delly had bought the little plastic champagne flutes that barely held a thimble full, although most people had already switched to standard plastic cups for their bubbly.  There was an active “Pagne Pong” table downstairs, and in the dining room, a crowd was huddled around the table playing a lively game of Kings.

They hadn’t even reached the kitchen before ten people had tried to wave Peeta down.  On any other night he would have stopped for every one of them to have an overly long conversation — and not generically polite conversation either, personal ones.  He could recall inane details about every person in the room.  Their great aunt’s middle name, the position they used to play in little league, his capacity for that sort of information was mind boggling.

But tonight, he only sent an acknowledging nod in their direction.  His attention like a laser beam focused only on her.  He poured her a cup full of sparkling wine and then one for himself.

"You want to play beer pong?" he said, tipping his head towards the basement door.  "You seem like a beer pong person."

She was.  At least she usually played when she went to parties.  “Okay,” she said.

Peeta had a decent shot, but she was better.  They won three games in a row and the fourth was already in the bag.  She wasn’t drunk, per se, more warm than anything, and she was probably talking more than she usually would.  What she couldn’t control was how much she was touching him.  She kept putting her hand on his back, or tugging on his arm, or playing with the collar of his shirt. 

He wasn’t helping, standing as close as he was.  He was leaning his hand against the wall so that his arm draped across her shoulders, and when he turned to say something to her his face was always right there.  The more cups they finished the more he seemed to be wrapped around her and the more she seemed to like it.

When midnight came, the entire room counted down the seconds all the way to zero.  “Happy New Years, Katniss,” he said, his voice so low it barely broke a murmur.  Everyone around them was exchanging friendly hugs and chaste kisses, but she and Peeta were in a different place entirely, where only they existed.

He was staring at her mouth and she found that she couldn’t stop staring at his.  Her eyelids felt heavy and they slipped shut just as his lips touched hers, tentative and firm at first, then, then…

His hands were at the nape of her neck, and her fingers holding onto his belt loops to keep him from slipping away.  He took her upper lip between his, running his tongue beneath it experimentally before kissing her deeper — agonizingly slow, as if the whole thing were happening in slow motion.

Suddenly, they were being broken apart by the rest of the celebration.

"Happy New Years, man!" Thom was slurring enthusiastically beside him. 

Peeta shook his hand and then Bristel was there too, sneaking in between them to give Peeta a hug.  Katniss let out a surprised squeak when Bristel turned and hugged her tightly as well.  Then Delly was there, and Levy, and Gale and Madge, who Katniss hadn’t even known were at the party, and the moment they had shared, she and Peeta, was completely lost in the crowd.

Once Peeta was swept into the frenzy of holiday greetings, it was almost impossible for him to break from his sociable trance.  He was being pulled further down the celebration current, watching her apologetically from across the room as he accepted more hugs and laughed along to the stories that were being relayed to him.

It wasn’t that she was irritated by this.  He was kind and generous, two noble qualities to have, in spite of how frustrating those qualities could be to a person like her.  It only served as another reminder as to why they hadn’t spoken much before last week.  Why they had never really been friends.  She and Peeta were on opposite ends of the spectrum in that way.  It was as simple as that.

Gale and Madge were getting ready to leave, and it made more sense to tag along with them, since Peeta lived right across the street from Delly and Katniss’s house was on Gale’s way.

She pantomimed a few gestures to Peeta, indicating that she was leaving, and although he made an insistent motion that she wait a minute, she was already climbing the basement steps and heading towards Delly’s bedroom for her coat.

The light was already on, and Delly was ending a brief conversation on her cell phone.  “Love you too, have fun,” she said quickly, before hanging up the phone.  Her smile broadened when she acknowledged Katniss.  “My parents,” she said, indicating who was on the other end of the line.  “Had to find someplace quiet enough, so they wouldn’t hear Thom’s rendition of ‘Auld Fucking Lang Syne’ in the background.”

Katniss nodded politely.  “I was just coming for my coat,” she said.

It took some effort for Delly to lift Katniss’s old, leather hunting jacket and she held it out to her.  “Do you need Peeta’s too?” she said sweetly.  “It’s so wonderful to see you two together.  I always told him that if he would just talk to you, instead of brooding over it all the time, that you would probably like him back.  He’s so down on himself, like he doesn’t see how great he is, you know?”

Katniss found that hard to believe.  Peeta was the life of every party, even when he didn’t want to be, and he was incredibly quick witted and funny, although his humor was usually self deprecating and at his own expense.  What really caught her off guard though was Delly’s implication that Peeta had been interested in her for a long time.  Longer than this week, at least.

She remembered him in high school, not necessarily a part of the “popular” crowd, but always well liked, and rarely alone.  She didn’t think he had any serious girlfriends, none that she could recall, but she was certain she’d seen him holding hands with a pretty blond girl and maybe a red head once or twice.

Peeta Mellark had not spent all of high school pining for her.

"Yeah, he’s great," Katniss agreed, excusing herself before Delly could pawn his jacket off on her again.

Peeta was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and Madge and Gale were only a few feet farther, by the front door.

"Is everything okay?" he said, catching her arm before she reached the bottom step.  "I can take you home, if you want.  It’s not a big deal."

"No, it’s okay," she said, giving him a reassuring smile.  "Gale’s got to go past there anyway.  You should enjoy the party."

With the added height from the step, he was forced to look up at her.  His chin tipped up and face cocked slightly to the side.  Always with that look like he didn’t quite believe her, which was only amplified at this angle.

His hand moved from her arm to rest boldly on her hip.  “I’d have more fun with you,” he said.

It was too much now.  The idea that this attraction was something more than a casual flirtation, that the warm feelings she had experienced towards him were more than required, it weighed too heavily on her mind.

"Some other time," she said, and she kissed him on the cheek.  "Happy New Year, Peeta."

* * *

 

To get back to Panem, Katniss had hitched a ride with a girl on campus who was traveling to the next city over.  Katniss didn’t have a car of her own, and there weren’t any bus lines or train stations that ran that way, so the only other option would have been for her mother to drive out and pick her up, which was inconvenient for everyone, especially since her mother would have to repeat the trip to take her back.

That’s why when Peeta offered to drive her back to school the Saturday before classes started up again, she thought the idea was ridiculous.  It would be a pointless six hour trip for him, and Johanna — eccentric as she was — was more than happy to take her gas money.

But it would be three more hours with Peeta, and probably a couple more if she showed him around campus and they grabbed something to eat, which they probably would.  She knew it was selfish to accept the ride.  That it really was impractical.  But Peeta had insisted, and deep down, she had wanted him to.

There wasn’t much open on campus, only the shops on the outskirt, which technically weren’t affiliated with the university.  At the coffee shop by the bookstore, they each got a drink, pausing at the counter beside the register where the milk and sugar were kept.  Peeta didn’t add anything to his tea, she noticed, after she’d poured so much milk into her coffee, it was on the lighter side of tan.

She felt embarrassed for some reason, and sheepishly took one packet of sugar to add.

"You’re going to drink that chalk with one sugar?" he said, his voice teasing.  He pinched four sugar packets and ripped off the corners, dangling it threateningly over the mouth of her cup.

"Let me guess.  For a drink as sweet as me?" she said flatly, but there was laughter at the edge of each word.

Peeta bowed his head to suppress his own chuckle.  “Oh God, listen to you!  I’m such a bad influence, I’m sorry.”

She shoved his shoulder, letting her hand linger on his arm while he tapped the content of the packets into her drink.

"Hey Katniss."  She looked up to see that the baristas had changed shifts, and the girl behind the counter was someone she vaguely recognized.

"Glimmer," she said with a questioning lilt.  They had orientation together and Freshmen Writing Seminar, maybe.

Glimmer’s darkly outlined green eyes flitted to Peeta.  “I don’t think we’ve met.”

"Peeta," he said, and extended his hand to formally shake hers.

"I haven’t seen you around…" Glimmer said, and the tone she used was too suggestive, like she would have noticed him if she had seen him before, because even Katniss could admit that Peeta always left an impression, she just didn’t want others to see that too.

"He goes to Panem U," Katniss said shortly.  "He’s only here to drop me off."

Glimmer raised her eyebrows, this look resembling pride flashing across her polished features.  There was an implication behind it, like she and Katniss were sharing a secret that only two women could understand.

"Oh.  You thinking about transferring?" Glimmer said.  It was obvious that she didn’t mean the question seriously, and was only commenting because it appeared that Katniss and Peeta were together, but still, Katniss tensed at the question.  She didn’t want to hear his answer.  She didn’t know what she even wanted his answer to be.

"Let’s sit," she said quickly, tugging on his hand.

He followed after her, throwing a hurried, “Happy holidays!  It was nice to meet you!” over his shoulder.

They sat at a table in the far corner, and she probably pushed her chair too closely to his, but there was something thrilling about the knowing look that Glimmer had given her.  That Katniss was with Peeta and it was obvious to everyone.

He rested his hand on her thigh beneath the table, and it only amplified the excitement she felt.  She couldn’t describe it; she only knew that she really liked it.  She really liked him.

When they returned to her dorm room, she dropped her laundry hamper beside her bed and set her backpack on her desk.  Peeta was watching her from the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets, while he pretended to inspect the shelf where she kept all her food stocked.

"Do you need me to take you to the Laundromat?" he addressed her hamper.

"No, it’s clean," she said.

"Grocery shopping?"

Her shelf of food was nearly overflowing, and her mother had packed her with some leftovers as well.

"When’s your Spring Break?  Maybe I can come pick you up?" he said, a hopeful smile slanting his mouth.

"You don’t have to, really.  I’ll see what Johanna’s plans are."

"I don’t mind the drive," he said eagerly.  "I’ll probably be bored out of my mind at home anyway."

"Okay.  Maybe."

He sighed.  ”I guess I should get going.”

She hesitated only a moment before she was wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

"I had a really good time this week," he said, his voice a bit uneven.  "I wish it didn’t have to end."

She didn’t want it to end either.  They were on the cusp of something, she could tell, but it was too soon to define it.  She’d spend the next three months running the scenarios through her mind.  All the times she could have kissed him, or held him, or told him how she felt.  

Or the things they hadn’t yet attempted.  What it would have been like for him to touch her.  For her to touch him.  The ways he could be inside her.  It’s all she would be able to think about.

That buzzing, deep in the pit of her stomach returned, so inviting and warm. 

As he released her from his arms, she lingered, catching the front of his jacket before he could get too far.  She rolled forward on her toes and pressed her lips to his.  They could have a few more minutes, she thought.  He didn’t have to leave quite yet.

She liked the way he held her face in his hands when they kissed.  There was something so determined about it.  Not necessarily controlling, but thorough, like he knew exactly how he wanted to kiss her and didn’t want to miss a moment of it.

He had tuned them somehow and she was pressed against the door, with her fingers clinging to the lapels of his wool coat, and he was kissing her again and again until she was dizzy.

"Maybe I could stay a little longer," he said, his lips still grazing hers as he spoke.  "Second dinner or something.  I don’t think I’ve ever had Ramen before."

She was having trouble catching her breath.  ”My roommate doesn’t come back until tomorrow,” she said abruptly.  He took a step back and before she could question it or second guess herself, she lifted her sweater over her head and dropped it by her feet.

He looked utterly baffled, his jaw slack and the rest of him frozen with apprehension.

She was losing her nerve.  ”Do you want to?” she said with far too much uncertainty.

His eyes were open wider than she’d ever seen them when they met hers.  ”Yeah,” he said, and if that affirmative weren’t enough, he stripped off every layer — coat, sweater, scarf, and tee shirt — all in one ungraceful motion.

Then they were kissing again, his skin impossibly warm where their bare chests now met.  His lips left hers and he kissed down her throat, and across her collar bone, nudging her bra strap from her shoulder as he lavished her.  Her fingers tangled in his cropped blonde curls, urging on his exploration with quiet sighs and hitches of breath.

His movements stilled.  ”Katniss…” he hummed against the hollow of her throat.  Then he groaned, backing away a few steps until he was on the other side of the room.  

She felt cold without his heat, and she folded her arms across her chest  She was too exposed.  It was silly to be standing like this without his body covering hers.

 ”I feel like I have to disclose something,” he said carefully.

She narrowed her eyes, anticipating the worst.  A girlfriend at school.  An incurable sexually transmitted disease.  Maybe there was something wrong with her that he suddenly felt compelled to point out.  She looked at the floor.  She really wanted to put her shirt back on.

"Disclose what?"

His smile was nervous and he kept ruffling the curls tucked behind his ear.  ”I sort of… well… I’ve kind of liked you for a really long time.”

"I know," she said.  At least she had suspected it.  In fact, the more she thought about it — the details about him that she could remember — she realized that, perhaps, she’d liked him too, all the way back in high school.

"I’m not sure you do," he said with a tense chuckle.  "It’s been an embarrassingly long time.  I’m pretty sure there are prehistoric cave drawings documenting my admiration of you.  And I’m not saying this to pressure you or sway anything that’s happening right now.  I just needed it out in the open before you figured it out and thought I was a total stalker or something.

"Because I figured it was something that would never happen, and after school ended I was over it, I swear, but then, it was like fate.  You showing up at the bakery when I wasn’t even supposed to be there, and I knew if I didn’t say something.  If I didn’t at least try.  I’d regret it forever."

"Peeta I liked you too, I did," she said.  More than she had ever realized.  She tried to remember the exact moment that she knew.  And then she remembered that day in the hallway.

"We had a class together," she said.  "Chemistry?  The classroom hadn’t cleared yet and we were all waiting in the hall.  I caught you looking at me and you smiled."  It had caught her off guard, and she had looked away so quickly — no wonder he thought she hated him.  At the time, she felt this small thrill.  She didn’t consider it seriously, but after that, she thought that maybe they would date or something.  But nothing ever came of it.  "You never talked to me."

"Honestly?"  He laughed.  "I was pretty terrified of you.  You weren’t exactly approachable.  You may as well have been wearing a flashing neon sign that said BACK OFF."

"What about now?"

His eyes dipped to her breasts, concealed only by the foam cups of her bra.  ”You’re definitely flashing something else right now, I can tell you that.”

The heat from his stare ignited a pleasant warmth in her.  There was a promise in his gaze, like he knew exactly what he wanted to do with her.  He’d probably worked out each scenario a hundred times, and she wanted him so badly, right now, to show her.

She reached behind her back to unfasten the clasp, allowing for the garment to slacken around her shoulders.

"Jesus," he breathed, his eyes lingering intently on her chest.

She crossed the room to sit on her bed, toeing off her boots before lying down on the mattress.  ”Can we maybe kiss again?  This is starting to get weird.”

He practically tripped out of his shoes to join her, and then that delicious heat from his body was swallowing her again.  He hovered above her while they kissed, his muscles tense from propping his weight oh his elbows, the only pressure coming from where their hips were joined.  That’s when she felt him.  Firm and insistent against her thigh, and grinding with small, nearly imperceptible thrusts.  

She wrapped her legs around his and lifted her hips to direct him between her legs.  Even through their jeans, the friction felt good and she let out an embarrassing sound of approval before she could stop herself.  This only served to encouraged him and he pressed against her with more determined, sturdy thrusts.

His lips left hers, kissing down her neck to the valley between her breasts.  He paused there, shifting his weight to one arm to run his hand along her rib cage.

"I’ve thought a lot about these," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Her skin screamed to be touched there.  Her nipples were tightened into aching buds, sensitive to the slightest quiver in the air.

"How do I measure up?" she said, watching him tentatively.

He covered one with his palm and gave it a gentle squeeze.  ”Not quite as big,” he said.  ”But these are much better.”  He flicked his tongue over the pebbled peak, and she shuddered, her back bowing off the bed to meet his touch.  ”These are real.”

"You dreamed I had fake tits?"

He nipped her playfully and she let out a yelp.  ”You know what I meant,” he said flatly.  He laughed, dropping his face to her shoulder, while his hand continued to massage her breast in his palm.  ”I’m talking so much.  God, I must be so annoying.”

"No.  I like it."

He looked up at her, his eyelashes fluttering shyly against her skin.  ”The least I can do is talk dirty or something.  What’s sexier?  Pussy or precious garden?”

"Really?"  She scoffed.

"I’m trying to figure out what sort of imagery I should use.  It has to work well with my ‘magnificent cock’."

She lifted her eyebrows.  ”That sounds like an overstatement.”

"You haven’t seen it yet."  He rolled his hips, agonizingly slow, so that the entire length of his erection rubbed against her center.

Her throat felt dry and she pressed her lips together tightly to suppress the hitch in her breath.  ”Okay.  No more talking.”

He moved up her body, his lips touching her throat, then right beneath her earlobe.  ”I want to be inside you,” he said in a heady whisper.

She whimpered, and nodded her head frantically.  ”All right.  I’ll allow that,” she said.

He sat back on his knees to unfasten her jeans, and she lifted her hips to accommodate him as he stripped them from her legs.  With her feet planted on the mattress, he ran his fingers up the back of her calves to the crook of her knee.  She hadn’t shaved in a few days, a fact she was now dreadfully aware of, but he didn’t notice, or at least, he didn’t seem to care.

He opened her legs wide, stroking her inner thigh to the apex, pausing when he reached the edge of her underwear.  He traced her opening with his thumb through the cotton, a pleased smile slanting his mouth.  She was already wet for him.

He tugged on the elastic waistband, his eyes searching hers for approval, which seemed silly, since she was already practically naked.

But then she was naked, and he was hovering above her with his hand trapped between their bodies, and his fingers pressed against her clit.  Her hips moved to the rhythm of his ministrations, lifting eagerly when his pace quickened.

He kissed her when she began to fall apart.  His tongue stroking against hers deliberately as he dipped his fingers inside her, gathering more moisture to take her over the edge.  When she came, he swallowed her cries in his kiss, leaving her boneless and breathless in its wake.

"There are condoms in the dresser.  Top drawer," she said, her eyelids still heavy in the aftermath.

He brought the entire box back, tearing off a packet and dropping the rest on the floor beside the bed.  He unfastened his belt and kicked off his jeans and boxer shorts.  She took this moment to admire him, her gaze settling on his erection.

"Fine, I may have embellished a bit," he said, when he caught her staring.

But he hadn’t.  He was perfect.

He rolled on the condom and sat beside her, ready to position himself above her again.  She stopped him though, pressing her hand against his chest so she could swing her leg over his and straddle his hips.

"You’re killing me," he groaned as she sank down his length.  She balanced her hands on his stomach, lifting herself on her knees and lowering herself again and again until she was used to his girth, the lustful gaze in his eyes spurring her on more and more.  His hands skimmed beneath her rib cage then he took her breast in each hand, massaging the mounds and working the tough peaks between his fingers.  "You would not believe how jealous all the younger versions of me are right now."

When she leaned forward, using the rungs from her headboard as support, she found the perfect angle to stimulate her clitoris against his pelvic bone, and she rolled her hips with growing fervor.  Then his thumb was there too, fingers splayed against her abdomen to anchor it in place while he circled her clit deftly.  His other hand gripped her thigh, holding her steady so he could meet his thrusts.

She came with a shout and him soon after, her walls clenching to coax his ebbing orgasm.  She collapsed against his hard chest, and they both lay there, still tangled, until their shallow breaths became even.

He lifted her mess of hair off her shoulder and combed his fingers through it to loosen the tangles and smooth the strands down her back.  He was still inside her and her walls fluttered every time she felt his cock pulse faintly. 

"Three hours isn’t that long," he said quietly.  "I was driving pretty slow too — to get here — I could probably make it in two if I tried."

Katniss bit her lip to contain how please she was as he mused over the logistics of seeing her.  ”I don’t think I could wait three months to see you again,” he told her, his fingers running absently up and down her sides.  ”In fact I really am ready to run down and register for classes so I never have to leave.”

She thought she’d be more terrified by the idea, but she wasn’t.  ”I’d grow awful tired of having you around.”

He kissed her again.  ”I’d be more than happy to test that theory.”

She smiled at him.  ”Me too,” she said.


End file.
